English Roses by F. Harald Williams [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] |
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THE PEOPLE OF THE BOOK. |
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 | English Roses |  |
THE PEOPLE OF THE BOOK.
We are the people of the Book,
The chosen of the Lord,
We but to Him for guidance look
And are His conquering sword.
We are the one imperial race,
We have the ruling hand,
Our freedom grants the foremost place
And lightens every land.
For we were made to govern earth
On many a field and flood,
To give the world a grander birth
Baptized with iron and blood.
The chosen of the Lord,
We but to Him for guidance look
And are His conquering sword.
We are the one imperial race,
We have the ruling hand,
138
And lightens every land.
For we were made to govern earth
On many a field and flood,
To give the world a grander birth
Baptized with iron and blood.
And we were meant to fashion all,
We have the fairest right—
The heart that leaps at duty's call,
The mandate that is might.
The blue sea is our royal robe,
On every shore we stand,
And carry with us round the globe,
The custom of command.
Our navies bear the lamp of law,
The blessings that environ
Our realm with justice and its awe,
Secured by blood and iron.
We have the fairest right—
The heart that leaps at duty's call,
The mandate that is might.
The blue sea is our royal robe,
On every shore we stand,
And carry with us round the globe,
The custom of command.
Our navies bear the lamp of law,
The blessings that environ
Our realm with justice and its awe,
Secured by blood and iron.
We are the people of the Book,
The chosen of the Lord,
And never will old England brook
Resistance to His sword.
We plough in hope the barren space,
We plant the gospel yet,
And if the heathen know not Grace
We give the bayonet.
The world is our imperial road,
We ride upon the flood,
We lift ourselves the nations' load
And build of iron and blood.
The chosen of the Lord,
And never will old England brook
Resistance to His sword.
We plough in hope the barren space,
We plant the gospel yet,
And if the heathen know not Grace
We give the bayonet.
The world is our imperial road,
We ride upon the flood,
We lift ourselves the nations' load
And build of iron and blood.
| English Roses | |